Before Dawn

By Ndivho Makhwanya

When a father divorces his wife, the daughters are left vulnerable and have to cope with a distressed mother whose presence is no longer apparent. Rachel, the youngest daughter,discovers that her mother isn't the only one who has lost her sense of being, but her sister too. Only her sister isn't distressed about the divorce but an ordeal unimaginable.Rachel makes it her mission to find out more about her sister's woes but what she lands on leaves her family's emotions in a roller-coaster. Will a confession revive a melancholic soul?

About the author

Makhwanya Ndivho is a devoted fiction author and poet whose aim is to express controversial social issues, motivate and change people’s lives through her writing. She is the founder of Bokamoso Edu-foundation that focuses on helping school children to gain access to their educational needs. She continuously works with organizations aimed at helping the youth to deal with challenging social issues they face. Her work has been expressed through a local newspaper column and youth workshops in Limpopo province, South Africa. To learn more about her writings and quotes follow her on twitter @Ndee_Mac

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ndivho Makhwanya
• Release date: Mar 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463519868

Book preview

Before Dawn

Before Dawn

NDIVHO MAKHWANYA

Copyright © 2019 Ndivho Makhwanya

Published by Ndivho Makhwanya Publishing at Smashwords

First edition 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Published by the Author using Reach Publishers’ services,

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Edited by Noreen Thomson for Reach Publishers

Cover designed by Simee Creations

Website: www.reachpublishers.co.za

E-mail: [e-mail]

CONTENTS

Dedications

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

DEDICATIONS

Just like any other colleagues that travel from the same place, we were on a lift club, taking turns to drive each other to work. Our trips were filled with laughter and petty conversations. I never knew that on one of our trips, we would share our dreams, deepest thoughts and feelings. It all started with a song the dance and in no time our pep talk had grown into something deeper and sounder. Pouring out my life and feelings to her whilst she listened attentively and she ends up in tears. She started convincing me that I would make a great motivational speaker, but I decided to choose my forte, writing to motivate people. Not only did she push me to unfold my dream but she continued on being a great support throughout the lifecycle of this book. Before dawn was born because of a woman whom I never thought would have any significance in my life. Lauren Michellin Jacobs, this is for you and for all the women who have suffered in the hands of those who were supposed to love and protect them.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I thank God for giving me this great gift of expressing my thoughts through ink and paper, for his graces that made it possible even when it was not easy and for seeing this dream through.

To my younger brother, Vhugala MACVEE Makhwanya, your support has been most amazing, for the days you would be my grammar police and the perfect imaginations you made me envision, am grateful beyond words.

TO my parents, as you’ve always supported me in achieving each one of my dreams, this has been the greatest one and you continued to be my cheerleader. I am grateful, and you are most loved by your one and only daughter.

To the rest of my family, I would not be here without your great love and continuous support.

Thank you Malikai Amir, although I was already on the journey of making this novel a success, you gave me much strength when I was in need, wisdom when I felt lost and enough courage to make the journey ahead an easy one.

Porcia Mtetwa, Mbali Dlamini, Botsang Mathabatha, I am mostly grateful for going beyond being colleagues and cheering me on. You were my soldiers in this journey. Thank you

To the Grand Central and Rand airports team, you are the best colleagues one could ask for, thank you for offering me your support.

Finally, Reach publishers, Before dawn would not have been a novel without you. You breathed life into my manuscript. Thank you team.

CHAPTER 1

5.30 a.m. 3 December 2016

RACHEL, I told you to keep away from my issues! I was held hostage for a couple of hours with a gun waving in front of my face, and then the police came to rescue me. How many times must I tell you the same story? shouted Amy, wiping away the tears which rolled down her cheeks.

If that is what really happened then why are you hiding this from our mother? Why are you still having nightmares? Before I entered your room I heard you mumbling something about missing someone and you were crying, yet you claim to be alright. What really happened? Obviously you are battling to deal with this. It has been two years now since your incident, TWO years Amy! I retorted, hoping I had raised the point strongly enough to persuade my older sister to tell me the truth.

I can’t tell Mama. You know she has a lot to deal with at the moment, and you don’t understand the pain of losing someone you truly love. You don’t know how it feels to have your whole world taken away from you. You don’t understand the pain of being hurt by someone you thought, loved…

Before she could finish her sentence, I interrupted with the words, Someone you love? What are you talking about? Who held you hostage?

I… I… I mean you don’t understand the pain of seeing your life flash by right before your eyes. In any case you have no right to barge into my room and start asking me questions. GET OUT! As I turned sharply and headed for the door, my sister called me, Rachel wait, I’m sorry. I will deal with this issue later when time permits. But now go and get ready so we can leave, otherwise we will be late. Okay?

She looked at me with those puppy eyes and I could not resist her apology. I smiled fondly then rushed to my room, forgetting the brush which I had intended to fetch before the argument arose. It occurred to me that we were arguing far too often. It was all we seemed to do.

My sister moved back home almost a year ago from her apartment in Milpark. She had been staying there since she started her own company, after letting it be known that she wanted to be close to her offices. She intimated that it would require a great deal of time and dedication to start from scratch. When she moved back, she told us her company had stabilised and complained of having been lonely. I soon noticed a great change in her. She had become very aggressive and vicious - the total opposite of the sister I knew.

In an effort to discover what had really happened to chase my sister back home, I carried out my own investigations, only to discover that she had been involved in some sort of traumatic incident. She emphatically refused to tell me the whole story, and insisted that she had been held hostage, but was saved in time to escape injury. My intuition told me that her story did not add up, so I had to bide my time and dig deeper to uncover more details. She refused to talk to our mother or anyone else, but insisted that she was dealing with it and would heal soon . I knew she was not coping, but at that stage there was little I could do.

Last evening, I found something written in her journal. It read:

Day after day life became bittersweet. Some days were amazing and some were dreadful. That year life taught me that the world isn’t what I thought it was. The terrible pain and hurt I endured that night is beyond words! It started as a beautiful day and ended as the worst night of my life. I cried endlessly because the shame and the pain I bore was unimaginable. Since that night I have become so vulnerable and lost my self-confidence and self-respect. The values I had, the standards I had set, my morals and dignity - they all seemed to have disappeared into thin air. As a consequence of that night, instead of seeking help and upholding the image of the woman I was and wished to be, I was too gullible and trusted strangers.

The experience left me feeling that it was pointless to have values. Why should I be sophisticated, worthy and virtuous when someone had stolen all that I valued? I was degraded and my dignity was lost on that fateful night of sorrow! I just don’t understand how one can stand up again after falling so hard. I’m sitting here reminiscing about the good old days when I was young and free; the days when I was a woman of honour, or rather a girl of honour! Those were the days when I was the girl of my time. What happened to that girl? Where did it all go wrong?

After reading this heart-wrenching account, my suspicions grew stronger and stronger, then culminated in the argument we had this morning.

3.45 p.m. 3 December 2016

"Life is a journey to a place unknown

A journey that many try to condone

Yet it all unravels to a blunder

It is full of surprises and wonder

Its contents are made up of joy

And sometimes sorrow

Life is like a blender filled with emotions

Emotions that none can define

Joyful disappointments

Sweet nightmares

Life is unpredictable

Like the atmospheric conditions

One moment all is serene and the skies are blue

The next moment the clouds grow darker

And within seconds thunderstorms shower the earth

Causing chaos and shock

Life is… well life

We take each moment as it comes

Like the acronym LIFE is, ‘Living in Faith Everyday’"

Thank you, said Amy after reciting her poem at the youth centre. Many didn’t understand what this poem meant, but because I knew my sister, this wasn’t just a recitation but Amy revealing her deepest thoughts and pent-up emotions. This was my sister lamenting. This was my sister revealing her emotions, letting the world know of her deepest feelings. Writing was my sister’s forte. If she was not at work, she spent most of her time in her room, either sitting in front of her laptop or holding a journal and a pen - writing. If not, then you would find her in the garden. It was as if nature was her muse, but she always told me that she was her own muse. She says that only when she writes, can she feel and really live. That very same need was her muse - it was what inspired her to keep on writing.

Lately she had been writing rueful, satirical and sardonic poems. I had read some of her excerpts but the tone was always sad. The poem she had just recited was very negative, as if she was lamenting over something she had lost. A couple of months back she spent most of her time crying in her room when she thought she was alone. Lamenting over and over again and isolated from everyone, this was not the woman who had formerly been such a vibrant member of our family. As for the argument we had this morning, surely there was more to the story than she was letting on.

As I sat deep in thought, I felt someone touch me. With a start I realised Amy was back and needless to say, she deserved a hug. After hugging each other affectionately, we took our seats as people applauded her. The host announced that this was the last guest item of the evening. My sister had been invited as one of the guest speakers in our community’s annual Young Creative Writer’s competition of 2016. Numerous up and coming young writers entered the competition, which included a variety of categories ranging from literary work, drama and song writing to the arts.

Amy had given a speech before reciting her poem. She encouraged the youth to follow their dreams and to work even harder to become successful. It was wonderful to know that my sister was a role model both at home and to the community as a whole. The host called on the judges and while we waited in anticipation, they announced the winners of the different categories. I knew some of the winners from my school, but there were others I had never met. I was happy to hear that a young girl, who had been mentored by my sister a couple of years ago, had made it through in the poetry category.

Finally, before we close and celebrate with our winners, I wish to award a R10 000 voucher from our sponsors to a woman who is a pioneer in this community and a role model to many of us. She is young, yet very successful, giving back to the community by mentoring our children, tutoring in different schools and she also offered an internship at her company to the winner of the Best Writer Award, said one of the organisers.

The councillor who stood on the stage beside her, pointed at my sister and said, Please give a round of applause to the beautiful, kind-hearted Miss Amanda Khumalo. I couldn’t believe my